Ôhùfukmâ – Our Freedom
by Pericula Ludus
Summary: Thorin is suffering from the gold sickness, leaving the company leaderless as armies assemble outside of Erebor. Fíli is willing to step up and lead them into battle, but soon realises that leadership alone is not enough. Won 1st place in the "Feels for Fíli Fic and Art Mini Contest #3" – Movie Night


_"Aye. Fight and you may die. Run, and you'll live... at least a while. And dying in your beds, many years from now, would you be willing to trade all the days, from this day to that, for one chance, just one chance, to come back here and tell our enemies that they may take our lives, but they'll never take...OUR FREEDOM! Alba gu bràth!"_

William Wallace, Braveheart, 1995

**_Written for the "Feels for Fíli Fic and Art Mini Contest #3" – Movie Night_**

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><p><strong>Ôhùfukmâ – Our Freedom<strong>

"I wonder what the world would be like if more of us thought like you, Fíli," he could clearly hear his uncle's voice in his head, his earnest tone not diminished by the years that lay between that moment and the current one. It had been the day of Fíli's first kill and they had talked long into the night about the morals of battle. Thorin had been kind and compassionate. He had understood Fíli's concern for every life that was lost. Thorin was certainly not thinking like Fíli now. There was no more kindness and compassion in his words or his actions. His beloved uncle had become a stranger to him.

Fíli strode down the dim corridor briskly. He did not have a particular destination in mind; he just needed to get away. Away from Thorin. The sound of quick steps told him that Kíli was about to catch up with him. Out of the dark his brother appeared at his side, panting slightly. Fíli did not even look at him; he just quickened his pace and kept staring straight ahead.

"Come on. Don't be like that. Come back!"

Fíli just made a non-committal grunt.

"Hey, listen, I'm sure he didn't mean it…"

Fíli forced a mirthless laugh.

"Oh seriously… you can't just run off!"

Fíli stopped suddenly and turned to his brother.

"Oh really? I can't?," he asked, "Try me. Looks to me like I bloody well can!"

While he could not make out Kíli's features in the insufficient light of a far-off torch, he was sure that he was rolling his eyes at that.

"Just come back. We can talk about it."

"We can't though, can we? He's not listening. He's just talking about the gold, the mithril and that thrice accursed stone!"

"Don't say that…," Kíli's voice had taken on a pleading undertone now. "He listens to you. You're his heir and… well… stuff," he trailed off.

"Stuff. That's it. Stuff," Fíli interjected sharply, "That's all it's about now, for him. Don't fool yourself, Kíli. Heir or not, he couldn't care less about me or you or anybody. You heard him! Now he's calling Dáin a filthy traitor and elf whore for joining forces with Thranduil. He'd rather see hundreds of dwarves killed by goblins than to risk losing one gold coin!"

They had stopped right in front of a guttering light, so Fíli could now actually see his brother hang his head. It did not look like Kíli was going to say anything, so Fíli continued.

"You can't deny it, he's lost it. The treasure has addled his brain. It's the dragon sickness. He's mad as a bat!"

Kíli cringed at his harsh words. "You can't say that... That's treason! Uncle Thorin is our king!"

Fíli stared at the younger in exasperation. "What? You think he's right? Do you take Dáin for a traitor? You really think he should have attacked Thranduil?"

Kíli shuffled around uncomfortably. "Course not… it's not like that… but you can't just… you can't say that. I mean, it's Thorin. Thorin has always been a good leader. He knows what he's doing."

There was little conviction in his voice, more a desperate wish for his words to be true. Fíli had no such illusions. He snorted derisively. Kíli flinched at the sound. He was gnawing on his lower lip now, just like he used to do whenever he had been scared as a dwarfling. He seemed to realise that the shining hero of his childhood was becoming tarnished. He looked so small and vulnerable. Fíli sometimes forgot just how young Kíli still was, not even eighty yet. But he needed his brother to understand, so he forged on:

"Thorin, the real Thorin, would never risk the lives of so many, he would be sensible enough to see that an alliance was our only chance. Thorin would certainly never threaten to kill somebody smaller and weaker than himself."

He watched Kíli shudder and knew that he too was reliving that dreadful moment when Thorin had been making an attempt on Bilbo's life. He grabbed his brother's shoulder and squeezed it gently as he continued:

"Thorin is sick. His mind is sick. He's not acting like himself right now," Fíli paused, gathering courage for this next bit before he admitted, "I do not know him any more. That person is not Thorin. He would be ashamed of himself if he could see what he's been doing, I'm sure of it."

"He needs our help," Kíli said quietly.

"I don't think there's much we can do for him," Fíli admitted. "We are trapped in a mountain that's been devastated by a dragon, outside our door there's a host of Elves, a host of Men and a host of Dwarves and an army of goblins is about to arrive. He needs to snap out of it and quickly."

"We could talk to him."

"We have talked to him. Balin has talked to him. Dwalin has talked to him. All he even wants to talk about is the Arkenstone, the gold and war." Thorin's shouts still echoed in his ears. Kíli had heard them as well, but still he did not give in.

"He's still our uncle." Kíli was nothing if not stubborn.

"I would not leave you alone with him right now." It hurt Fíli to say that. Thorin had always been there for them. He had been the one who gave Kíli his first braids when he would not let anybody else touch his hair. Much later, Thorin had also given Kíli his first tattoo. He had always been so gentle with him. Had a real soft spot for him. And now Fíli was afraid that Thorin might attack his little brother at the slightest sign of insubordination.

"He is a danger to himself and all the others," he continued, "If he perceives any threat to his authority or his treasure…" He could not bring himself to complete that sentence, but the uncomfortable look on Kíli's face told him that he understood. The incident with Bilbo had been drastic enough.

"You want to protect the others."

"He is our uncle. It's our duty. I want to help Thorin. And I'm afraid that means keeping him from doing something stupid."

"You would defy him?"

Fíli swallowed hard. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

"Yeah…," Kíli shuffled from one foot to the other, looking very uncomfortable indeed.

"Are you… ready to die for this treasure?"

Kíli had his lip between his teeth again. For a while he did not react at all, then he shook his head quickly, as if that would lessen his shame at the admission.

"Then I'll see to it that you don't," Fíli said earnestly, pressing his forehead against his brother's and just breathing, slowly and deliberately until he could feel Kíli relax.

* * *

><p>"You can't," Fíli was nonplussed by the proposal the eight dwarves in front of him had just made. For all his frustration with his uncle, he could not believe that they would just run away.<p>

"It's quite safe," Bofur ensured him, "The dragon caused a lot of damage, but we've managed to dig our way through. No worse than any mine. We'll get to the hidden door and we've got plenty of ropes to make it down from there. Nobody will be any the wiser!"

"You can't," Fíli repeated, words still failing him as he tried to comprehend that they had been working towards this escape plan for days.

"It's treason," Kíli, never at a loss for words, shouted animatedly, "you're cowards, all of you!"

They had the good grace to look abashed for a moment, but then Glóin stepped forward.

"No lad, none of us are cowards. We never turned aside throughout this entire quest," he said. "We did not fear trolls or goblins or even the dragon. But we'd be throwing our lives away. And for what? Even if we survive the orcs, Thorin would just throw us against the Elves and Men next."

There was a murmur of assent among the others.

"I like my gold as much as the next dwarf," Glóin continued and Fíli thought that was a bit of an understatement. "But I like my wee Gimli better. I'd like to see my lad again and not for all the gold in the world would I miss that. It's a question of what we get out of a fight. We'd be offering our lives for no return at all. I'm sorry, son, but running from that is not cowardice, that's good sense."

Fíli was dumbfounded. He had just voiced his own concerns to Kíli, but he had never expected the others to actually desert Thorin. Panic bubbled up in him like molten steel. It threatened to burn him, to consume him. They could not leave on the eve of battle.

"It's not just about the gold, though, is it?," he finally managed to say.

Dori nodded gravely "True. It's about much more. It's about living a good life. No use for the gold when you're dead. We've each packed a bag. Nothing much, you understand, just a few trinkets that we can easily carry."

Bifur patted his pockets and grinned broadly in affirmation.

"We will all have a good life in the Blue Mountains," continued Dori, "and so will our families and our friends. We will be able to enjoy those few coins and not die for the sake of the entire hoard."

Fíli stared at him, willing him to take those words back. There had been virtually no class differences on the quest. But maybe he should not have expected anything else from the commoners. They had joined up for an opportunity to make their fortune. He should not have expected any other motives. Miners and tinkers and toymakers. A rag-tag bunch indeed. Maybe he should let them go. Leave the fighting to those who had a cause, to those who would fight for the lost homeland in which their families had been ones of great importance. But this was about so much more. This was so much bigger than each and every one of their families. And he could not bear the thought of having to go into this battle without each and every one of his companions.

"Please, do it for him," he pleaded, voice shaking, "do it for Thorin. He loves you and he needs you. Please!"

They were all looking at their boots now, shuffling around uncomfortably. None would meet his eye. It was Nori who broke the silence. "I will not risk a hair in my beard for his dragon sickness," he hissed.

"He is your king," Fíli said, trying to control the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. He looked directly at Óin, "your kinsman."

Raising his voice in what he hoped was a strong and inspiring tone despite the waver that he could not suppress, he continued, "Stand by him. Follow him one last time!"

They stared at him silently, defiantly. He could feel that he had lost them. Not even able to encourage a mere nine dwarves.

Fíli was relieved when Balin walked into the room, such a short time after his words that he must have at least caught the last few sentences. Balin would understand. He was Thorin's most trusted counsellor and one of the line of Durin. He would know what to do with this potential mutiny.

His older cousin however just shook his head dejectedly. "No, laddie," he said, placing a hand on Fíli's arm, "let them go. This is not what any of you have signed up for. Thorin does not know his own kin any more. We cannot expect anybody to follow him. Go now, while you still can. I have been with him for so long, I will not leave him now. But there are those of you who have a life to return to."

Turning towards Fíli he continued: "Your determination is testament to your honour. Your uncle will not tell you, but take it from me that I am very proud of you and so is he. You will make a great king one day. But do not ask anyone to follow Thorin now. Not when he himself is blindly running after the voice of the gold."

Fíli nodded his acknowledgement, but did not speak. They were leaderless. That was the problem. Not cowardice.

"I'm sorry this has happened again," said Balin, "I'm sorry you have to see him like this."

Fíli paid him no heed, but stood taller with sudden resolve. "I have seen much of Thorin's madness and I do not blame you, for I myself have difficulty trusting him right now. But the line of Durin is unbroken. My uncle might not be in a position to be a good leader, but Kíli and I stand before you with clear minds and strong bodies. Stand with us, my friends. I shall lead you into battle, as wisely and fiercely as I am able. Follow me!"

They remained stony-faced, despite the gravity of his words. Finally, Óin spoke up, "You have shown your quality as a leader, Fíli. But a battle this size… you cannot even imagine…"

"You're a good lad, Fíli, I've certainly risked my life for lesser men," said Nori. "If it was just me, I'd follow you, I'd pull a balrog's tail with you. But..," he shook his head, "it's not just me now, is it? I've got a little brother to think of. You've seen what it's like out there. I'm not taking Ori into that. I'm sorry, Fíli, really am. I just... can't..." He trailed off, but then stood up straighter, grabbing Ori's arm and turning to walk through the archway towards the path they had cleared. The way out, the way to escape the battle unnoticed.

"I too have a little brother," Fíli's voice was steady now, and Nori turned instantly. Ori had not even moved, mesmerised by their exchange of words, while Dori was on his other side, wringing his hands. When he was sure he had everybody's attention, Fíli continued, "I would never lead Kíli into certain death. If I did not believe in the utter need for this battle, Kíli would be out of that door and a league away from this mountain already." He heard an intake of breath at his side where he knew his brother was standing and fervently hoped that just this once, he would not argue.

Despite his shady past, Nori had proven to be a trustworthy companion and an adept fighter. Fíli appreciated his outspokenness. They were afraid, just as afraid as Kíli had been earlier. They were scared by the loss of their leader and the impending battle that was seemingly without hope and without cause. He could give them a leader, but unlike Kíli, they did not trust him with their lives instinctively.

"I will not insult your intelligence by claiming that this battle is nothing to be afraid of. But it also affords us a great opportunity to affect the course of history," Fíli's voice was not as forceful as Thorin's, but quiet and assured, "This might be the end of us all, and I am painfully aware of that as I prepare to lead my only brother into what promises to be a most daunting task. Our labour will be hard and long, but I know that none of us will perish or suffer in vain. This is a unique day. Dwarves are made to endure, and we have endured great hardship in our time. But I ask you to rally once more, not for any leader, nor for gold, glory or honours, but for the greatest cause of them all. To keep the darkness that threatens to engulf our world at bay!"

Fíli was not shouting, in fact he barely raised his voice at all, choosing to address the circle of his friends and companions as if in private conversation. Nevertheless, his voice seemed to echo between the carved walls of the silent hall. He looked each of them in the eye before he continued, and this time, all of them met his glance.

"Fight and you may die," Fíli said gravely, "Run, and you'll live... at least a while. And dying in your beds, many years from now, would you be willing to trade all the days, from this day to that, for one chance, just one chance, to come back here and tell our enemies that they may take our lives, but they'll never take... Our Freedom!"

There was silence.

Balin's lips twitched in what might have been a smile. None of the others showed any emotion. They just stared at Fíli. Kíli was by his side, but his speech seemed to have had no effect on the others. They stood and stared, but Fíli had no more to say. He could think of nothing else to convince his companions to join him in the fight, not for gold, or honour, or glory, but for the freedom of all.

"Zatâgrîfizd farâkhmâ ni ma zatâgrîfizd ôhùfukmâ!," Bifur's loud voice broke through the silence. It had taken him some time to work out Fíli's last sentence. Bofur hissed angrily and gestured for his cousin to be quiet. Bifur just smiled and nodded his head enthusiastically, looking extraordinarily proud of himself. It was Bombur who spoke next.

"You are right, Fíli," he blushed, not usually one to speak up in front of the company, "One day, many years from now, when I sit by the fireplace with my grandson on my knees and he asks me about Erebor, I don't want to cough, shift him to the other knee and admit that I slunk away at the last minute. I want to proudly show him the scars I earned on this day. The scars I got building a world that I would want him to grow up in. One that is as good and stable as I can make it. If you will have me, then I am by your side."

Fíli smiled. He clasped arms with the normally timid cook. Bombur understood. This was not just about them. This was not just about Erebor. This was about the future of all the Free People.

Bofur followed his brother immediately. "My prince," were his only words and there were tears glistening in his eyes.

Balin's beard swept the floor as he bowed. "I have nothing to add to that, Fíli. You do your heritage honour. I shall follow you proudly," he said.

Fíli felt a lump in his throat as he bowed in turn. His oldest cousin had always been one he looked up to.

Ori was the next one to pipe up, his voice even higher than usual.

"I want to go with you," he said simply and Fíli welcomed his support.

Nori bared his teeth at him.

"All this talk of a homeland, some pretty stones and even your bloody line of Durin does not mean much to me," he snarled. "But freedom sure does. You treat us all the same. You're a fighter for freedom for everyone. I'm with you. If I die now, for the first time I will die for something that I believe in."

It was a special honour to have Nori follow his lead. Fíli knew how much he valued his personal freedom, and appreciated his sacrifice all the more.

Dori looked shocked, all wide eyes in a pale face framed by his silver braids. Nevertheless, he stepped forward and declared staunchly: "I want what is best for my brothers. I would not keep them for long if we left now. We should spend what time remains for us together. We will fight with you, Fíli, son of Dís, daughter of Thrain."

He bowed and Fíli followed suit.

"Well now, this changes matters considerably," declared Glóin. "You have argued your case well. Never let it be said that one of the line of Durin would be averse to take a risk for such a reward. The odds may be against us, but the expected return is great. Certainty of death, small chance of success - what are we waiting for!"

Fíli smiled at his cousin's speech, but never doubted his sincerity, as they clasped arms roughly.

Oín followed his brother solemnly. He bowed deeply as he offered Fíli his services. "Fíli, heir of Durin, I'm at your service. My duty lies with the wounded and Mahal knows there will be many of those."

Fíli swallowed as he bowed in turn, hoping beyond hope that none of their number would be among those in need of the services of the old healer.

That left only Bifur. He stood alone on the far side of the hall, looking somewhat befuddled as everybody seemed to have deserted him. Fíli was unsure whether he should reach out to him; possibly try to explain to him what had just happened. But then the toymaker bounded over to him, grasped his shoulders, shook him violently and shouted:

"Ôhùfukmâ!"

Everyone cheered and joined in. Ôhùfukmâ. Our freedom. Fíli had found a cause and a hope to rally them. He looked at them proudly, his rag-tag bunch of warriors. Had he had an entire army of iron-shod dwarves at his disposal, there would have been none he would have rather fought beside. He loved every one of them as a brother. If he was to die on this day, he would at least die next to those who were dearest to him.

"Right, now," Balin was all business, as he ushered them out of the room. "Come on, much to prepare. Bofur, I need your expertise, if you could have a look at that wall for me…"

Fíli watched somewhat astonished as Balin shepherded the entire group outside. Only Kíli stayed behind, unsure whether to follow or to stay with his brother.

"Keep up, Kíli, lad, I have a job for you to do. Take your bow, will you. You will be most valuable to us," Balin nattered on and grabbed the youngest Durin by the arm. Fíli nodded to him as his brother caught his eye.

"Go," he said, "I'll be there in a moment."

He did not trust his voice for more. As soon as Kíli had disappeared, he leaned heavily against the wall. He was thankful for the breathing space Balin had given him. His first big speech. And under such circumstances. He had taken responsibility for their lives now. And it weighed on him. But he believed. He believed that he was right and that any sacrifice would not be in vain. This was a fight for the future. He would go out there and take lives, and he would feel responsible for every single one of them. And if any of the lives that were now entrusted to him were lost, he knew that he would grieve for them as brothers. He had never quite gotten used to the death he dealt and experienced so frequently. It had never lost its sting. But maybe sometimes a death could be justified, when it occurred to prevent future death and suffering.

Fíli took a deep breath and stood upright once more. He was ready.

"Dwalin!" he gasped. He had almost collided with the tall dwarf who had been standing just outside the door. Dwalin. Most loyal of warriors. Loyal above any doubt. Loyal to Thorin. Thorin's bulldog they had called him as children because he followed every command without question. Later, they had admired his unwavering faith and courage.

Dwalin glowered down at him. He must have heard. He would tell Thorin. He would tell Thorin that Fíli had rallied his companions behind himself, had driven them away from Thorin. Had doubted Thorin. Treason. Treason carried the penalty of death. In his current state, Thorin would execute him on the spot. What would become of the others then? They had been composed and determined. What effect would Fíli's death have on them? On Kíli?

Fíli refused to be cowed by Dwalin. He took a step back so that he would not have to look up at him and faced him proudly. He would stand up for what he had said. He would defend those who wanted to follow him.

Dwalin stood, arms crossed and stared at Fíli. Then, in one fluid motion, he sank to his knee.

"You have my axes. I'm yours to command."

He remained kneeling on the ground, his head bowed, as Fíli took a stumbling step towards him. He raised him to his feet, his hero, the warrior he aspired to be one day.

"I do not command you to do anything," Fíli said, "I do not ask anything of you other than what you yourself are willing to give. I trust you will make the decisions that you are convinced will have the greatest benefit for our people, not just now, but in the future."

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><p>When they threw down the wall they had erected, Thorin was first through the breach, racing towards the goblins at full speed, shouting "Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!" at the top of his lungs.<p>

Fíli was right behind him and it was not until his voice had rung out that the others followed suit, bellowing their ancient battle cry. It might make no difference to those who witnessed their sortie, but to them it was important that they were following Fíli and not their gold-crazed king. They were not fighting for treasure and superiority. They were fighting for their freedom. Whenever one of them spotted Fíli in the melee, a clear cry in Khuzdul rang out

"Ôhùfukmâ – Our Freedom!"

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><p><em>Author's Note:<em>

_I neither like this film nor do I endorse the way in which it butchers Scottish history. But since the submission deadline for this contest is the 18th of September 2014, the day of the Scottish Independence Referendum, it felt appropriate for me to write something inspired by a quote from the movie which, for better or worse, has exposed a global audience to some version of Scottish events. _

_Along with 4.2 million others, I'm casting my vote today, making an exceedingly difficult decision for the future. Whichever way the referendum goes, I'm proud to be part of a nation that is currently demonstrating that politics does not have to be a sport for a small elite, but can be an activity that everybody can engage in in a peaceful, tolerant and constructive manner. _

_Apart from the movie Braveheart, this fic obviously draws on the wider work of Tolkien, as well as a number of memorable words from both literature and history, most notably George Patton, Woodrow Wilson, Winston Churchill, the Declaration of Arbroath and Shakespeare's Henry V._


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